Dusty Books, Bloody Lips
by Steefwaterbutter
Summary: Battle Tendancy Fic. It was bad enough that Joseph was stuck in some stuffy, cramped, boring, hole-in-a-wall excuse for a library. Then there was those two guys that had broken in and were now trying to kill him, and... sort of succeeding. As if this day wasn't awful enough already. Pain and fluff story cuz I love Joseph.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I found a new fandom. I think we all know what this means. WHUMP. ;D_

_(And comfort, of course)_

_But honestly, I'm pretty excited to be posting something after so long. I've been working on my first big screenplay, so that's been taking a lot of my time, but one night I was like "I wanna write about Joseph getting hit over the head with a bottle." So I did._

_It turned out to be a little harder than I thought, as I wanted to sort of stay true to the sort of style of JoJo's fights while also keeping it from dragging too much and keeping things realistic (and throwing in subtle references to memes that probably only I will get). I also underestimated how hard Joseph would be to write, and how often I keep misspelling his name XD_

_Long story short, this story took way more out of me than it should have, but I'm happy with the end result, and I hope you enjoy it too. _

* * *

_ Click. Click._

Joseph scowled, gripping the books wooden cover tighter under his fingers until a small voice in the back of his mind warned him that it might crack. In retaliation, he turned the book sideways, squinting at the tiny text.

"The first Hamon users were thought to originate in…"

_Click. Click. Click._

The rest of the muttered sentence died out in his throat.

_Click._

"And…"

_Click. Click._

Joseph slammed the book down on the wooden desk, banging his too large knees on the too-small underside. The fan leered down at him from the ceiling, the broken blade steadily clicking against one of the lights, the dead bulb inside shuddering at every tap.

_Click. __**Click.**_

He glared up at the fan. "And then the Hamon users decided to permanently outlaw ceiling fans."

Orange sparks leapt off the ends of Joseph's fingers, crackling softly in the empty library.

He didn't see it so much as he felt it. The finger of cold slipping up his arm and into his scalp. Joseph let out a yelp, dropping his hand. The stupid mask pulled at his breathing, letting him know it had slipped out of rhythm.

There she was. Sitting behind her desk like a queen at her throne, half-moon spectacles balanced carefully on that long nose that made him think of an icicle. Her thin, veiny hands remained clasped around the book, eyes skimming over the text, but there might have been blades of ice shooting out of her frosty gaze.

This old lady sure had one hellof a glare.

Mrs. Boveri pushed her spectacles up her thin nose. "So, help me God, if I catch you laying one destructive Hamon-filled finger on this library, I will personally drag you out of here and throw you down Hell Climb Pillar. _Without Caesar._"

Joseph's eyebrows dug into an even deeper glare. She wouldn't. Except… well… old ladies could be rather unpredictable. Joseph gave a soft growl as he slunk back down. He'd yet to hit a woman, much less a little old lady who could have been his grandmother, but this old… _hag…_

_Click. Click. Click._

She'd probably been sitting there—reading that book of proverbs or whatever—for so long that she had her own thin layer of dust, just like every other surface in this hole-in-a-wall excuse for a library.

_**Click.**_ _**Cli—**_

The bell tinkled: a soft, musical sound. A split second later the door bounced against the library's wall, rattling the entire room. Two men stepped through the door. Joseph rolled an eye towards them, letting the insignificant book drop from his hands. One was tall and thin, the type that'd be fast in a fight, but probably easy to take out with a hit to the knees. The other was stocky with beefy arms that could rival Joseph's own. Maybe.

_**Bang.**_

The old librarian's hand slammed on the desk.

"I don't know who you are," she said to the two men, her voice all high and thin and reedy. Suddenly, it sounded like the kind of voice you could snap between two fingers. Joseph swallowed. "But I will not allow such disorderly conduct in my library."

The stocky man laughed and held up a hand. "Take it easy, Granny," he said, his voice tinged with a light New York accent. "We'll be all nice and quiet, see? Stefano and me are just here to pick up something. We'll be out of that frizzled gray hairs in no time."

Mrs. Boveri bristled. "This library is open through invitation only. I will _not _have ruffians barging in here and removing my books without permission."

Joseph sat up straighter, dropping his hand from where he'd been cradling his cheek. Wait. Where was the stick guy—

He whipped around, just in time to shut his eyes before the bottle smashed into his face. His nose flooded with the smell of cheap booze, a whine of pain streaking through his scalp.

The chair crashed to the floor. Joseph stumbled backward, off balance, until his back collided with the bookshelf, a short gasp flying from his mouth. A few of the books clattered against the floor. He squinted open an eye, the shriek of the breaking glass still ringing in his ears. His vision blurred and he raised his fists in front of his face, struggling to regain his balance.

"So, I'm guessing you're here… for me for some reason, or… you just really hate books," Joseph said. Blood dripped down his cheek, tickling his skin. He swiped at it with the back of his hand. It was an exaggerated the motion, used it to hide the movement of his other hand as it reached behind him and swiped a piece of paper off the shelf. "I mean, I never really liked reading myself. Well, except for comic books, but really, no one seems to count those."

The man—Stefano, the other guy had called him—raised a dark blond eyebrow. The broken half of the beer bottle flew from one hand to the other as he stepped forward.

"Guessing it's the former, then." Joseph let out a breath. The paper folded into a tiny airplane in behind his back, crackling with Hamon.

Stefano's steps turned into a sprint. His fingers twitched. Joseph wrenched his body to the side, swinging the paper airplane straight towards Stefano's face.

_Crunch._

Stefano's fingers snapped shut, crushing the small Hamon-filled piece of paper. He smiled, and Joseph's breath slipped out of rhythm, the mask cutting off his air for half a second.

_He shouldn't have been able to do that._

All it took was that half second. Stefano's fingers twisted into the collar of Joseph's shirt.

The old lady screamed.

The next thing he knew his body smashed into something hard.

A sickening crunch.

His vision flickered out.

For a second there was nothing. Then someone let out a sort of weak groan.

"An excellent attempt," Stefano said, his voice cutting through the haze. His voice was smooth. Oily, almost. "And one, I'll admit, that I haven't seen yet. I know what you're thinking. 'How could this happen? My Hamon's supposed to be impenetrable!'"

Joseph blinked open his eyes (when had he closed them?) Stars bloomed in his vision. From what he could tell, he'd thoroughly crushed the elegant glass case in the middle of the library. The one Mrs. Boveri had always kept yammering about, how she'd put all these articles that she'd collected from around the world in there.

Oh.

No wonder she'd screamed.

"This was not… part of the plan," Joseph muttered under his breath. His fingers skimmed across the floor as he maneuvered his body into a crouch. Then his hand closed around the piece of thread. At least there was that.

Stefano smirked at him, one hand resting one of the library's desks. His foot tapped against the ground, kicking up a small cloud of dust.

"You're really just going to stand there?" Joseph said, raising an eyebrow. "And here I thought Iwas lazy."

"Yes." Stefano's voice was soft. "Because my work here is nearly complete. Because, now, bit by bit you have begun to destroy yourself. Every movement, every beat of your heart brings you closer. Why risk injury from your oversized fists when I can simply stand back and watch you die?"

Joseph rose to his feet with a small grin. "Dying? I—"

The ground tilted under his feet as pain bloomed in his side. Joseph stumbled backwards, boots crunching on the bits of glass. His heels knocked what remained of the glass case, and he almost fell backwards, prompting a shock of cold through his core. His hand grabbed at his side.

Wet. Sticky. Something leaked onto his palm.

A large piece of shell was embedded into his lower torso, the end quivering with every breath he took.

Bile crawled up his throat and he almost gagged. He forced it down, plastering a grin on his face instead. A nauseating ache pulsed through his torso.

"Come on, standing around dying's no fun," Joseph said, flicking a few pieces of broken glass towards Stefano. "I've been doing way too much of that today."

Stefano startled, something like fear flickering across his face for the first time since he'd stepped into the library. The pieces of glass fizzled with Hamon as they hit the table where his hand had been moments before. His elbow knocked into the reading lamp, and it shattered against the ground. The light flickered out.

"Finally got you to move, eh? I have to admit, you've got quite the twinkle toes there." Joseph stumbled away from the glass case, weaving the bit of thread between his fingers.

Stefano's features twisted into a snarl.

_Got it._

Boots banged against the wood floor, crushing bits of glass into even smaller pieces.

"Come on, ballerina," Joseph said, his voice lilting. He raised his other hand, fingers waggling. "Let's see some of those pretty dance steps you gave us earlier."

Stefano stopped, still a few steps away. Just out of range of a solid, Hamon-filled kick to the knees. A loud huff of air forced itself from his throat. "Good grief. You're so… annoying."

He tapped his foot against the ground. A movement so simple, it should have been nothing.

It should have been nothing.

The floor bucked underneath Joseph's feet, knocking him backwards. His head hit the floor, the crack ringing in his ears.

"I may not have more muscle than you, Joestar, but I do have one trick up my sleeve. I can send power out through any limb, multiplying it in the process. It's quite useful for taking out Hamon users like you. So, I just reach out my hand like this…"

Fingers tangled into his hair, yanking him upright. Joseph's hand flew up before he even told it to, latching onto the wrist in an attempt to stop his entire weight dropping down on the roots of his hair.

This time, he wasn't fast enough.

This time, he screamed.

He didn't know how long he screamed, or how high and girlish it probably was. All that was left was streaks of red and black across his vision, blurring reality into a fog of agony.

A part of his mind idiotically wished Suzie Q was here. She'd smooth back his hair with her gentle touch, replace the smell of booze with the soft smell of roses.

Then his cheek collided with the cool floor. A soft moan escaped his lips as the coolness soaked into his skin, pushing back the fire that flowed through his shaking body. He couldn't stop shaking.

"That was pathetic," Stefan said. "You barely fought back. Still. I suppose I should give you the obligatory bit of backstory before you die. Fill in the blanks however you'd like. I was born into a large family in 1912, fell in love in 1930 and started hunting Hamon users in 1933. Don't take this too personally. You're just another name to be crossed off the list."

Joseph pushed himself up on a shaking elbow, and dragged in a breath through the mask. "Next you'll say, 'Your life is about to come to an end, Joestar.'"

"Your life is about to come to an end, Joest—"

_Click. Click. Click._

Joseph smirked. "I really should thank you for giving me that bit of backstory. Perfect opportunity for me to get my breath back."

_Click._

Orange energy flooded up the thread and around the fan's lamp where the string had been tied.

_It's time for you to go._

Joseph threw himself into a standing position, yanking his entire weight against the thread. Stefano dove to the side, but not fast enough. The fan crashed down on top of him, dust and dirt erupting like the fallout of a bomb. Cracks streaked across the ceiling, plaster and rubble falling like raindrops. Raindrops that were growing into a full-on thunderstorm.

Joseph threw himself towards the door. A large piece of plaster crashed to the ground where he had been just seconds earlier. This lady was going to kill him for ruining her library.

The piece of shell shifted in his side, stabbing deeper into his torso, and Joseph almost screamed again. His leg gave out underneath him, knee crunching into the wood floor. A hiss escaped his teeth as he tried to drag himself towards the door, blood leaking from his lip. He must have bitten down on it at some point. His fingers brushed the doorframe.

Then a loud creak screamed through his ears. He whipped his head to the side, watching as the heavy bookshelf tipped towards him, wiping out everything from his field of vision.

_I forgot there were two of them._

* * *

_A/N: To be continued..._

_(Yeah I decided to be evil and split it into two parts because it's almost 2 am. _

_Merry Christmas!)_


	2. Chapter 2

Joseph's body spasmed weakly and he opened his mouth, letting out a wet cough. Blood leaked over his tongue, tasting like copper. He tried to swallow the taste away, but his sandpapery throat refused to obey.

Darkness had fallen over the library, blanketing everything in shades of blue and black. Joseph reached out with a shaking hand, trying to drag himself forward, to shake off the bits of rubble pressing down on his back, but dizziness swept over him, flipping the world upside down. He retched. Panic closed around his throat.

"Joseph? Where is he—_Joseph!_"

It took him a second to recognize the voice. That was Caesar's voice. It sounded more frantic than Joseph had ever heard.

"You idiot, I'm right here—"

He meant to say it. The words fizzled out in his traitorous throat. All that came out was a weak moan, swallowed up the buzz in his ears.

"Caesar..."

The buzzing grew louder as his vision dimmed.

"_Caes_..."

This time he didn't feel his face hit the ground.

o

Caesar's eyes swept over the ruins that had once been a beautiful library. He remembered coming in here just a few months ago, plucking a few of the roses that tangled up across whitewashed walls, wheedling and charming the old librarian until her icy gaze finally melted.

He gritted his teeth and stepped forward, bits of rubble crunching under his feet. Now wasn't the time to be thinking about that.

"Be careful. We don't know how stable things are," came Lisa Lisa's voice, calm and smooth as it had ever been. Caesar nodded, though every bit of his body ached to drop to his knees and start flinging rubble aside, looking for his friend.

"_Caes_…"

It was barely a whisper, a moan so quiet that for a second he wasn't sure he'd imagined it. Then his eyes caught on a tuft of brown hair.

"_Joseph_…" His knees hit the cracked floor, hands scrabbling at the rubble that covered Joseph's limp body. Somehow his clumsy fingers found Joseph's wrist, pressing against the veins in order to feel for a pulse.

A weak, thready pulse, but a pulse none the less.

"He must have broken apart the bookshelf with his Hamon as it fell, lessening the damage."

Caesar glanced up. Lisa Lisa was already at Joseph's head, her slender fingers gently removing the breathing mask from his face.

"He'll need all the oxygen he can get," she said. Her tone was calm, but still Caesar's blood ran cold. His eyes swept over Joseph's body, his bloody face, heaving chest…

"Coach…" Caesar's breath caught in his throat, the rest of the sentence dying in his throat.

Lisa Lisa's eyes widened. Just a small fraction, a small stumble in her graceful movements as she dropped to her knees at Joseph's side. "We have to immobilize it, keep it from doing any more damage." Her own words were catching. Her hands disappeared into her bag, drawing out a long piece of cloth. "If he wakes up, keep him calm. Whatever you do, don't let him pull that thing out."

Caesar nodded. He unfolded the small blanket he'd brought, carefully settling it over Joseph's arm and chest. For a moment he hesitated, then lifted Joseph's head into his lap, thumbs stroking over the small cuts that littered the young Hamon user's face. Somehow his fingers found their way into the thick, dark hair, partially matted with blood.

Joseph suddenly seized in his lap, face clenching as his hands tried to grab onto his side. Caesar took his hand from Joseph's hair, instead grabbing Joseph's wrists.

"Jojo… you'll hurt yourself."

It reminded him of that one night his little sister had gotten sick. She'd come to him in the middle of the night, tears streaming down her face, sobs choking her throat. He'd been terrified.

He'd be lying if he said his hands weren't shaking now.

So he reached out with clumsy, too large hands, like he had then, working his fingers back into Joseph's bloodstained hair, stroking it over and over while he hummed deep in his throat.

It was going to be a long, cold night.

o

He was surrounded by softness. That was the first thing he noticed. It felt like he'd collapsed onto a cloud. The tiniest breeze slipped over his face, cooling his sweaty skin.

The second thing he noticed was the quiet. The only sounds were the faraway sound of twittering birds, and the drip of water.

_What… happened? _Joseph thought. The words slipped sluggishly through his mind like molasses dripping off a spoon.

The library. The men. They'd been trying to kill him_—oh no—_he'd passed out—

Joseph's eyes flew open, and he tried to bolt upright. Sheets crinkled around him as pain erupted in his side. A hiss escaped his lips and he slumped back into the softness, waiting for thefire licking through his side to die down.

"Ah! Joseph, you startled me!"

"Suzie…?" Joseph managed to say between his short gasps of pain. He cracked open his eyes, squinting against the bright room. Suzie Q sat primly in a chair next to him, her bright blue eyes wide. Then her face burst into a wide smile, and she nodded. Her hands reached out, dipping a bit of cloth into a water basin.

"You shouldn't be moving around like that, silly, you'll break your stiches." She pressed the cool, wet cloth against Joseph's forehead. Her gentle fingers combed through a bit of his hair and Joseph almost moaned.

"You've been asleep for almost a day. Miss Lisa Lisa said that you might have a mild infection in your side, so you'll have to take things easy for a bit."

"Mmmm." Joseph hummed softly. If this was the type of treatment he continued to get, he supposed he wouldn't mind.

Oh, who was he kidding, this practically made almost dying worth it.

Suzie Q giggled and reached her fingers deeper into Joseph's hair, mussing it while careful to avoid the cuts on his face. Joseph felt his jaw go slack, the remaining tension in his body melting…

The door opened with a creak.

"Any update with Jojo, Suz—"

Caesar stepped into the room.

Suzie Q jerked her hand back, her cheeks blooming like a rose. She dropped the cloth back in the basin and scurried out of the room, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"I—I think I hear Miss Lisa Lisa calling, I have to go."

Caesar's eyebrows raised. Then let out a small, disgusted snort and turned and walked out of the room.

Joseph felt a grin pull at his face. He let out a long breath and let his eyes drift shut. "Next you'll say 'What the hell were you doing, Jojo?'"

"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU—"

—_THE END—_

* * *

_A/N: So much hair petting... I love hair petting... *Dreamy sigh*... Remind me to put that in the tags when I crosspost this thing to AO3... *Another dreamy sigh*_

_I know this probably won't get very many views as Battle Tendancy isn't a huge fanfiction hub, but if you did read it, and you did like it, do you maybe thing you could leave a review? _

_And, since this will probably be buried in the void, haha, I have to admit I'm kinda struggling to know what to write next. I've written h/c for so long I'm... Not *exactly* sick of it (I definitely had a freaking feels attack during that one epsiode of Battle Tendency) but it feels like it's getting harder and harder to write this h/c one shots. I'm afraid I'm becoming bland by writing about the same stuff over amd over and over instead of coming up with this super unique plot or something._

_This story was fun to write, but I guess I'm kinda feeling the h/c burnout, haha, but also feel like that's all I know how to write anymore._

_But, on the other hand, I am writing an original screenplay with... less... hurt/comfort, so we'll see how that turns out, hahaha. _


End file.
